


A Moment in Time

by Kadira



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AR, Light D/s, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 16:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kadira/pseuds/Kadira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A peaceful moment in a not so peaceful situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Moment in Time

**Author's Note:**

> * another old fic, which I just imported  
> * werewolf!AU, some very light D/s

The magical fire I lit the evening before has almost burned down. Only a few insistent, small flames play a game of shadows against the cream coloured wall. The windows are closed by means of magic and keep the early light of the sun out. I raise my wand and silently mutter the spell that will neutralise the blockade I put around the room last night. It is, like the completely shut down windows, another protective measure - for me as well as for him. Unfortunately, all of them necessary measures. As much as I hate them.

No, not entirely true. I don't dislike all of them. There are quite a few advantages to the situation, as difficult as it can be. I feel an involuntary smile playing around my lips as I wave my wand a second time, this time pointing at the window to the right side. I open the shutters just enough to let in a few rays of the sun, taking care that it won't disturb the sleeping form on the floor, laying on the soft, thick green carpet that covers the floor completely. A very small comfort.

I wish there was more I could do for him - beside filling him up with tranquillisers and covering the ground. It seems so utterly pathetic; not enough, certainly not for the gratitude with which it is accepted. But, unfortunately, it is the only thing I can do.

There was a time when I could do more, when I would spend hour after hour in my laboratory to brew the wolfsbane that would allow him to keep his human mind. But that time is long past. I can't give it to him anymore unless I take the risk of killing him. It is only effective for so long before it starts to eat one from the inside out.

Slowly, I cross the room and put the items I brought with me on the floor before I kneel down beside the nude but unmoving body. The even breathing does wonders for my racing heart. I never know what to expect when I enter the room after the monthly full moon, but I always fear the worst.

Werewolves are known to go against themselves, to hurt, even to kill themselves, if they can't follow the call of their nature - to hunt, to hurt, and to kill. I let my hand wander over his back, seeing to my delight only a very few scratches, which are already healing. Trying not to disturb his sleep, I turn him around, checking his front. The chains I use to restrain him during these nights jangle at the movement. There is a gash in his thigh, but nothing too serious, nothing that can't be healed with the right spell. I murmur the words while my hands hover over the wound.

Maybe this time I am finally on the right path to find the right mixture to keep his pain and the urge to hurt at bay at least, if not the beast locked up.

Unsurprisingly, he is still deeply asleep. The night always demands its remuneration. I sit down beside him, with my back against the couch and, after unlocking the chains I can reach, pull him carefully into my arms. He stirs only very slightly, just enough to bury his head against my bare chest. He's always so very affectionate after the change. Almost like a real pet. Well, I suppose he is my pet. But of his own choosing. The desire to submit is in his nature and something he needs and craves. Though he was only able to act on this desire after that fateful night when his life changed so completely.

The werewolf Voldemort had set on him and his family hadn't left much of him. Just a mass of flesh, blood, and bones as the pictures had shown very vividly. It was no wonder that everybody thought him dead and that they buried him. It all happened very fast. But of course, since it happened in the Muggle world, there was not much the wizarding world could do. Before we even knew what happened, the burial had taken place.

'Whole family murdered by an attack of a wild dog', the headlines of the local newspaper read. By the time the information reached the wizarding world, the bodies were already buried, side-by-side at the town cemetery, in insignificant graves. I don't know what brought me there in the first place, maybe my long repressed desire on which I had never acted, maybe sorrow, but whatever it was, I arrived there just in time to see that the Muggle authorities had made a grave mistake. Only three members of the family were dead. The other one had been buried alive. It was quite a shock to stand in the early night in front of the graves and then, all of a sudden, hear sounds coming out of one of them.

I've never seen Harry that confused and scared before, by the time I finally got him out of his grave. The sight of his own tombstone sent him, not surprisingly, into hysterics.

But of course, the whole situation had also a few advantages. Once Harry had calmed down enough to think clearly, he saw the benefits of the unwelcome situation. Without further ado, 'The Boy Who Lived' vanished. Dead to the world, he stayed in my manor and tried to cope with the changes in his nature.

Then there was also the relief that came with no longer being the main target of Voldemort's blood lust. His decision to vanish from the stage surprised me the most, I have to admit. It showed me a complete different side of our very own celebrity. One that showed Harry in a new light. Instead of a person who craved recognition, there was a scared, disillusioned young man who wished for nothing more than to have a few moments of peace. But what amazed me even more was that he wanted to find that peace with me.

It was one of the few times I was rendered speechless. At first, I thought it was just his fear speaking there. I thought that it was only fear of what he had become and fear of loneliness that had driven him into my arms that first night we spent together. But it was more than that. Not that these fears weren't important, but his feelings were quite serious, as I discovered very soon. And who was I to deny him what we both wanted?

So after we had prepared everything, I returned one more time to Hogwarts to hand Albus my resignation and less than 24 hours later, we had left our old life, and the wizarding world, behind us. Not that it was a hard decision for me: a life as a spy, which most certainly would have ended with my discovery and subsequent death, or life with the one I'd desired for so long, and who only grew closer to me during the few weeks I spent close to him. Not very difficult to make up one's mind when faced with those two options. And it is a decision I have never regretted once in the past three years. Although I must confess that I needed some time coming to terms with the werewolf aspect. It wasn't easy to get over the fear of almost becoming Lupin's victim, but I managed it.

"Sev?" I smile at the sleepy voice as well as the nickname. Harry is the only one who ever dared to call me this, the only person I can tolerate it from. But then again, it is pretty senseless to have such a close relationship and then to object to such small things.

I bow my head and kiss his scar softly. "I'm here," I say, feeling only slightly foolish to state the obvious.

It has become a ritual on the mornings after. He needs the reassurance in the confusion that accompanies his change. He sighs contentedly and snuggles closer against me. And for a moment we stay this way, not moving, not exchanging words, just feeling. It is always this way during the first few minutes after he wakes.

He told me once that he needs the closeness as an anchor, as a reassurance that he once more survived the change. And I'm only too willing to give it to him. Truth to be told, there is not much I wouldn't do for him. And he knows it. No matter what the roles in our relationship are, I'm just as much his as he is mine. I may be the one who is outwardly in control, but in the end we are just the same.

He turns in my arms and watches me. His gaze is no longer haunted as it was shortly before his transformation, when he was somewhere in-between, neither human but not yet a beast either, but calm. As always, I could lose myself in that sea of green.

The spell breaks when he raises his head for a kiss. I comply and savour the taste that is so uniquely him while pressing him against me, enjoying to the fullest the closeness and the warmth he radiates. I could stay like that for a very long time. But there is one more thing I can do for him. I take the bottle I brought with me, open the stopper with my teeth so as not to lose my hold on Harry and raise the bottle to his lips. Disgust darkens his features as he eyes the bottle. I can't blame him. The concoction tastes awful, even with the generous amount of honey I added. But it helps him to regain strength, and only that is important. "Drink," I urge him. And he does.

"It still tastes horrible," he complains, making a grimace of distaste.

"I know, but it helps you," I say, before I bow down, kissing him, sharing the foul taste with him. When I release him, he sighs softly and closes his eyes. I gather him nearer to my body, enjoying the feeling of his bare skin against my own.

Who would have thought that I, of all people, would fall in love with a werewolf? But he wasn't a werewolf when I was first attracted to him. At that time, he was barely old enough to be considered a sexual being. Yes, no one would say I was a paragon of virtue. I fell in lust with a boy who was barely more than a child. Not that I would ever have acted on it. I'm not such a monster. Besides, feeling anything more than scorn for the next generation of Potters hadn't been my plan. It hit me out of nowhere and I needed a very long time before I could understand it, and even longer before I could accept it. But never ever in my wildest dreams would I have dared to hope that the feelings would be returned one day.

But here we are, deep in hiding from those who know us, and from those who would hunt and kill us without a second thought. Our only comfort is that we are together and that is more than enough for both of us. I have never regretted my decision. Not for one moment. There is no place I would rather be. And as far as I know, it is the same for Harry. That is what he told me when we celebrated his eighteen birthday, last week. For me, this is as close to paradise as I'll ever experience. And I have no idea what I did to deserve it. How would things have turned out differently if I hadn't been there that one fateful night that changed Harry's and my own life so completely? What if nobody had heard Harry? It is a line of thought I don't dare finish, and, as if on cue, Harry moves in my arms - and groans.

I look at him critically, taking in his clouded eyes. "You're in pain."

"Nothing too bad. I just feel a bit sore." He gives me a reassuring smile that is too bright to be honest. It is always like this. Another relic of his old life. He doesn't want me to know just how much pain he is really in. The result of the life his relatives forced him to live.

Nobody can live for god knows how many years in a cupboard and be widely ignored for the rest of the time without it leaving traces. But in part it is also, certainly, the result of the fame that had been forced onto a child who had no idea who he was or what he did. Always be strong for others. I think that sums it up pretty well. He was always the strong one, for his friends and for those who saw him as the saviour of their world, even when it was only an outward pretence. Something I only first realised three years ago, when his barriers broke down. It is difficult for him not to hide things, regardless if they are of an emotional or physical nature. But it is something we are working on. And we are making progress.

"All right," he sighs dramatically, when he sees that I'm not fooled. "I feel as if a dragon ran me down. Several times."

Not much of a surprise after last night. First, of course, there is the transformation itself. I can only imagine how it must stress the body when every muscle is stretched and bones re-form themselves until the transfiguration is completed. And then, there are the self-inflicted wounds, the only way the werewolf can vent its inability to follow its nature.

I nod before I push him carefully aside and make a move to stand up. His eyes widen. "Sev!" Clear protest.

"A hot bath with something to relax your body," I say in a voice that allows no protest.

He rolls over and onto his knees until we are face to face. The few rays of the sun make the magical chains around his wrists gleam. They, as well as the others, are enchanted so that they will follow every step of his transfiguration without hurting him. They will adjust to his changed physique when he is in wolf form and widen as soon as he changes back. Not too much of course, since I know that this form of bondage gives him an additional sense of security when he wakes up again. Besides, he likes them - and so do I. As I said, there are some advantages to the situation.

"Sev," his voice is almost a whine. "I can think of a few other things which would be just as relaxing, if not even more so!" He is kneeling upright now, his hands on my thighs, in an obvious attempt to show me what kind of relaxation he has in mind. And if it weren't for the flash of pain that crosses his features at this movement, I might even give in.

"I have no doubts about that," I say, looking for my wand to open the rest of the locks.

"But see the utter waste if you free me now," he says, looking at me seductively while he caresses one of the chains in an almost loving manner. An action that doesn't miss its target. A very insistent body part of mine awakes and strains against my trousers. I can't suppress a low groan. "See?" There is a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"As tempting as it is: no. But," I say, framing his face with my hands, "if you behave and let me take care of you, we can continue this later." I press my lips to his. His mouth opens under the pressure and desire lights his eyes. It is a beautiful image.

"Hm?" I continue after I release him. "What do you think, my pet? We could even include the chains, if you like. Of course, we could also work on the Obscuring spell from last weekend. You could use some more practice. It is still a bit wobbly. Or we could go into the lab and work on your potion skills ..."

For a short moment he looks at me, horrified, then he smiles, obviously realising that I wasn't serious. I do teach him of course - turning into a werewolf once a month doesn't mean that his magical education isn't important anymore - but never after the change. Those days are just for us. It is something we both need. "I'll take the bath then, sir," he says, the gleam in his eyes back. He turns his head and kisses the palm of my hand.

"I had hoped you would decide so." I take hold of my wand and release him from his chains.

He doesn't look too happy about it, but bows his head so that I can get rid of the uncomfortable steel collar around his neck that keeps the beast at bay once a month. I open it and catapult it into the farthest corner of the room. The collar is one of the necessities. But unlike some of the other things that come with Harry's condition, I don't take any delight in it. It is far too rough and too obtrusive for my liking.

"Stay so," I whisper in his ear while I reach behind Harry to get hold of the other items I brought with me. My hand closes around the cool metal that lies in the shadow of the room.

Another collar. But compared to the rough dog collar, it feels wonderfully light and smooth to my touch. As I lift it, a ray of sunshine hits it, and the light green colour seems almost liquid, as if from another world. And in a way it is. Created by magic, exactly adjusted to Harry. I gave it to him about a year after the dynamic in our relationship had changed - thanks to Harry's persuasiveness and insistence. A turn that took me by surprise. Not that I complained; it suits us both just fine.

I still can remember the happiness he radiated when I put it on him as if it had been just yesterday. That one gaze of love and happiness was worth every hour I had spent creating it. It is not just a collar, but also a special kind of bond between us, the outward sign for our commitment.

In one fluid movement I put the collar on his neck. Harry gives a sigh of contentment as I lock it into place with a few well-chosen words, and he leans against my body. For a moment I simply hold him, my hands wandering over his back, enjoying the closeness between us. With a kiss on his head I slightly push him aside, just enough so that I can reach the last item I brought with me - the leash. With a snap I fasten it and, as if on command, Harry relaxes against me, almost melts against my body.

"Are you ready for your bath, my pet?"

He nods and wraps his arms around my neck. So affectionate ..."Oh yes." His voice is almost a purr. "But only if you'll join me."

Now that is a request that is almost impossible to resist. Something Harry is very well aware of. But it is also something I'll grant him only too willingly.

Scent of eucalyptus fills the air as soon as I put the essence into the hot water. It is a mixture I made especially for these occasions: various herbs with the purpose to relax sore muscles, to act as a disinfectant for the small scratches, as well as to ease the stress that accompanies the change, and minced Dragon scales to strengthen Harry's immune system. Against the common assumption, those infected with the werewolf virus are not immune to diseases. If anything they fall sick even faster and it takes them longer to recover.

I can't suppress a shudder when I recall our first winter together and the flu that had taken hold of Harry. The fever had lasted for almost four weeks, and after that he had needed almost as long before he had fully regained his strength. One of the many reasons that the lifespan of werewolves is not very high ...

It is not a happy thought and I certainly don't mind Harry's interruption as he emerges from the lavatory, leash in his hand. His steps are faltering and I catch him just before his legs give away under him.

"Maybe the bath isn't such a bad idea after all." A faint smile accompanies his words. He hates his weakness after the change as if it would be a personal defect and always tries to hide it. More or less successfully. Today, it is the latter.

"It isn't. Trust me in this."

He sighs and wraps his arms around my neck. "Always."

Unable to form an answer to his whispered statement, I pull him close against me and kiss him softly and thoroughly. I know that there was a time he didn't trust me. He not only didn't trust me, but also hated me.

Not that I can blame him, but it makes me treasure even more the implicit trust and love he gives me so freely now. Sometimes I feel like in a dream that is wonderful and surreal at the same time. And I'm afraid that I will wake up one day and discover that it was indeed nothing more but a very long hallucination.

"Sev?"

I shake my head inwardly, trying to chase away these bleak thoughts. But some of them must have shown on my face, for Harry watches me worriedly. Over the past three years, he has come to know me almost as well as I him. It is nearly impossible for us to hide anything from each other. The bond between us is so intense that it sometimes still scares me, even after all the time we have been together. I have never experienced something like that before. Words are rarely necessary between us to know what the other is thinking. But of course, this closeness, as strange and scaring as it was for me in the beginning, is also the perfect basis for the special relationship we have. It is something we definitely benefit from.

I press a last short kiss on Harry's lips and give the leash a light tug. "You may undress me, pet."

"Of course, Master!" The wide smile that accompanies his words lightens his features just beautifully. I would do almost anything to see this gaze. Not that it is a rare occasion that I see it, but it still manages to warm me like nothing else and to raise this special mix of emotions within me; possessiveness, protectiveness and love.

"Just unclothing," I add as he lets his hand wander in my trousers after opening the buttons. He pouts, but withdraws his hand and complies while muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

"Remember, first the hot bath, and later we will see about the rest," I say as I step out of my jeans.

"Yes, Sir," he sighs dramatically, while he folds my clothing, puts it aside, and comes to his feet. I pull him closer with the leash and bite him in the soft spot where his neck joins his shoulder. Not hard enough to really hurt him, but enough to draw a startled gasp out of him.

"*If* you behave. Remember, there are also other things we can do." Not that I do need to remind him of his place often, but it is part of our relationship. Something Harry was not only aware of when he initiated it and that he accepts only too willingly, but it is also something he needs and wants. A special kind of balance for him in a life that, at least once a month, is not only completely out of his control, but also very stressful. And not only then. Being a werewolf never leaves you alone. The transformation once a month is just the culmination of a never-ending cycle.

"Don't I always?" The mischievous grin is back as he leans in and lets his tongue wander over my lips, seductively.

"Brat," I say, coaxing a smile out of him. I push him slightly away and steer him towards the bathtub, grabbing on the way a bottle of the shampoo that smells like honey and which he likes so much. "Get in."

The tub is big enough to contain at least five other people without it becoming crowded. It is one of the few luxuries we allowed ourselves when we settled down in our new life.

Harry gives a sigh of contentment as he slips into the water and makes himself comfortable. I step in behind Harry so that he sits between my legs. I wrap my arms and legs around him and for a moment simply hold him, enjoying his body against my own and the heat of the water.

My hands wander over his flesh, carefully washing him so as not to cause him even more pain than he had already to endure. I don't use a washcloth. Nothing, no matter how soft, can even come close to the feeling of skin on skin. He moans softly as I carefully massage the shampoo in his hair.

He is a very sensual creature, something that grants us many hours of delightful fun. I push him up so that I can wash his backside. Even without his growl, I could have told that he isn't happy about the loss of contact. Neither am I. So, unlike other times when our bath sessions turn into a play session with a lot of teasing, I don't linger, but hurry so that I can pull him against me once again. The day after is not one for teasing. He needs the physically closeness too much, can't stand to be away from me for long. That's why the leash is so convenient on these days. Not that he doesn't like it most times, but today even more than normally.

He turns around and snuggles against me, his face buried in my hair. I wrap my arms around him, let my hands wander over his back, stroking and massaging him. I close my eyes and listen to his breathing that deliberately evens, showing me that he is slowly drifting away. He's still tired from the change so I let him sleep until the water becomes too cool to be comfortable before I wake him with a soft kiss and a tug on the leash.

"Hmm?" His voice is sleepy. He needs a few more hours of rest before he's really himself again. But I know him well enough to know that it will be impossible to coax him back to sleep once he's out of the water. Not that I feel much different. Peaceful sleep can and will come later.

"Time to get out," I tell him, pushing him up.

Harry murmurs something incomprehensible but complies. He gets to his feet and steps out. Shivering, he reaches for one of the towels.

"I'll do it."

His eyes widen in surprise as I grab the towel and kneel down in front of him, but he accepts it. Again there is no teasing. It is far more important to get him dry and warm before we even think of doing something else.

Once he's dry, I take a new towel for myself. I'm already half dry, but despite the fire the air is still too cool to be comfortable. One of the disadvantages of living in a northern country. Before I can start to dry myself, the towel is snatched from my hands.

"Let me."

Suddenly wide-awake, my pet sets to its task. He starts at my backside before moving around and letting the towel wander over my chest. Harry doesn't have any of my objections. He doesn't chose efficiency over pleasure, but lets the slightly rough towel wander over my skin, over my nipples, before wandering further down, where he wraps it around my already half erect cock, teasing it to full hardness with just a few strokes and then letting it trail down to my balls. He dries them gently while his mouth wanders towards my erection, kissing and licking along the side. Before he can go any further, I grab his arm and pull him up. Harry obliges. The erection that presses against my thigh as Harry wraps his arms around me and lets his mouth wander over my throat, carefully nibbling, does little to ease my own arousal.

I take the towel and throw it simply behind him. We can take care of the mess later. I have much more important matters to attend to. "Bed. Now," I say, my voice rough.

"As you wish, Master," he breathes, eyes alight with desire.

Harry complies only too willingly as I tighten my hold on the leash and lead the way, not caring for our nudity. In fact, he is so close behind me that I can feel his parched breath against my neck.

Harry groans as the lock of the chains clicks into place. I cast a spell and the chains tighten until his arms are stretched taut above him. Harry strains against the chains, testing his movement. When he sees that he is effectively immobilised, he relaxes in the bondage.

The light smile playing over Harry's lips shows just how much my pet enjoys the situation. But even without that, or his hard cock as undeniable evidence, I would have known it. He told me once, fairly soon in the beginning of our relationship, that to him the chains as well as the leash, and any other kind of bondage are security. That it helps him to feel anchored and safe.

His body arches into my touch as I let my hand wander over his warm skin. His muscles dance in the light of the fire and his eyes are gleaming with desire and excitement. He moans as I lightly graze his already semi-erect nipples. It doesn't take more than a soft touch with my tongue to have them completely hard.

I lean over him and capture his lips for a kiss, lightly, nothing too passionate. He growls in discontentment when I release him again. But during the day-after, my pet's self-control is almost non-existent, so I have to take over for him.

I let my hands wander over his body, lightly caressing his chest, his stomach and his thighs, enjoying the slight quivering my touches provoke. He moans as my fingers brush his cock and the hard flesh twitches in response. I lean over him. My lips capture the gleaming top of his cock. My tongue slips out and collects the drop of salty liquid that has gathered there.

A soft jingling sound cuts through the silence and drowns out my pet's ragged breathing. Harry's hands have wound around the chains. His knuckles are white and his features show his concentration as he tries to lift up his hips to gain more contact, the last bit that would drive him over the brink. I don't allow it. Not yet. It is far too early for that.

Harry's eyes fly open. "Please, Sir ..." His desire is evident in every fibre of his tense body, his rough voice, his flushed face and the dilated, gleaming green eyes that rest on me, imploring me to continue, to give him what he wants. It takes all my willpower not to react to the wantonly spread body below me or to the sweet plea.

Tempting and enticing.

And he has no idea just how much.

I force myself to tear my gaze away from the inviting body. My lips engulf the throbbing flesh once more. Sucking, I savour the slowly fading aroma of the bath essence and the taste that is so uniquely my pet while my fingers tease the tight hole of Harry's arse. I allow myself a low moan as two of my fingers sink into the warm confinement, and increase my sucking while stopping Harry's erratic movements with my other hand. When I feel his balls tightening, I withdraw my fingers. I suck one more time before I stop my attention and lean back.

Harry reacts with a growl of plain disapproval. He's panting and his gaze is clouded with frustration. "Sev, please." Probably the only words he's still able to utter in the state he is in. I slap his arse playfully and come to my feet.

"You don't want this to end before the real fun has started, do you, pet?"

Harry stares at me blankly for a moment, his mind obviously needing a moment to progress the words. Then he shakes his head. "No, Master."

I move up his body and straddle his chest. My hard cock presses against his lips, demanding entry. Harry complies. I can't hold back a growl as his lips surround my shaft, teasing it to full hardness before it is embedded completely in his hot mouth. "I thought so," I press out with an upward quirk of my lips, which can easily be interpreted as a smile.

I find that it is something that comes easier to me with every year we are together. It seems as if I'm not the only teacher here. His lessons are just as valuable, if not even more so. Or maybe it is the whole situation that allows us to relax and to just be ourselves. Probably a combination of both. But who would have thought that such a situation could turn into such a benefit for both of is?

I shake my head. Now is not the time to lose myself in such pondering. Not with Harry spread so wantonly below me, his body arching against mine, practically begging me with every fibre of his body to take him, to make him mine.

His closed eyes show me that he's enjoying his task quite a lot. His tongue swirls around my tip before my erection is once more completely confined in the hot wetness of his mouth. I close my eyes and begin to push myself in and out. Taking control again and putting an end to the delicious teasingly art he has mastered so well. I force myself to stop as I feel my balls contracting in an impending orgasm. I grimace as I ride waves of my suddenly interrupted coitus.

Sweet, delicious torment. A promise for further delights.

When my breathing evens, I slide down Harry's body and kiss him deeply. He strains to rub our bodies together. For a short moment I allow it. He whimpers when I end the kiss, but doesn't speak. It isn't necessary. His body language makes up for the actual lack of words. It speaks of passion, longing, need; a desire for all I have to offer, all that I can give him. And I am only too happy to oblige and give him all I can within the limits posed by his well-being. I would never risk harming him.

My lips trail down his throat, pressing feather light kisses and sharp bites to his skin before I withdraw. I murmur a few words while getting to my feet and the chains that bind Harry to the headboard lengthen. Not too much. Just enough to give him the necessary movement. "Turn around." His hasty movements are not as graceful as they would normally be, which is no surprise. The bath could only do so much to relax his muscles after the stress of the change, and I doubt the state of arousal he is in makes it any easier. The light of the fire accentuates the play of his muscles and the gleam of sweat on his skin. I can't withstand the temptation to administer a slap to the inviting flesh once Harry has finally turned around. The sound Harry emits is one between surprise and desire as he leans forward, while at the same time pushing his backside closer to me.

Harry turns his head. "Please ..." There's no need for more clarification and, unable to resist the pleading voice and the dilated eyes, I give in.

And once more I discover the aphrodisiac combination of pale flesh that reddens under my hand, accompanied by moans and whimpers, which speak of the delicious mix of pain and pleasure I bestow on my pet werewolf. He arches into my touch, whimpers for more as tears stream down his face. I can hardly think of a more arousing sight.

A fantasy come true.

Whatever I had expected when we said goodbye to the wizarding world, it wasn't this. I would never have thought that we would become so close and be so compatible in what we want. It is not that we agree in everything or that we don't fight, but our situation has given us a different view on what we had and what we have now. As peaceful as our life appears to be, it is not much more than an illusion. There is always the very real risk of Voldemort or somebody else finding us. It is a danger we are well aware of and which looms over us every moment of our life. But it is one of those situations that provide you with a different outlook on life.

There was a time that I was willing to risk my life without a second thought or regret, but not anymore. Not with Harry at my side. Sometimes survival comes before the right cause. My priorities have changed, and I don't regret it.

I shake my head, forcing myself to return to the present. With a last slap, I stop. A heartfelt groan is proof of Harry's displeasure. With a hand on his hip, I still his instinctive rubbing against the sheets. "Patience," I whisper in his ear, lying down atop of him.

He doesn't appreciate the benefit that comes with being patient, but he's slowly learning. Not that he has much of a choice in his current situation. I allow myself a grin before I begin to nibble my way down his body. Starting with his earlobes, over his throat, marking him with my teeth and licking over the sweat-slicked skin, drinking the salt from Harry as if it would be my life-essence.

And in a way, it is. In a way, Harry has become my life-essence. My reason to not only exist, but to *live* again.

His moans as I nibble my way further down his back are music to my ears. When I reach his buttocks and caress the still warm and red skin with my tongue, he is writhing below me, muttering incoherencies that could be curses or pleas. The moment I put my tongue to use and start to prepare him, he freezes. It doesn't last long, though, and he's trashing below me. Stirring my own arousal, awakening the wish within me to have an eternity to keep him this way, to explore every hidden inch of his body and to see how he reacts, how long I can keep him at the edge.

But not today.

Apart from the fact that Harry is in no condition for much more teasing. As delightful as it can be, neither of us would be able to fully appreciate it today. Harry's longing is obvious, and my own rock-hard cock speaks for itself.

Without wasting any more time I let up from my task. The frustrated whine soon becomes a whimper when I let my mouth wander up Harry's body, covering it once more in spit and teeth marks until I lay fully atop of him. I let my tongue caress the soft spot where neck and shoulder join while I position myself. Harry's head turns around, his feverish gaze searching mine, communicating where his voice fails him, radiating pleading and raw lust.

"Soon, pet," I assure him, my voice not more than a rough whisper.

I bury my hand in his hair and lift his head up, pulling him into a searing kiss that leaves both of us breathless. My cock twitches when the familiar taste invades my senses and washes over me. Containing myself becomes more and more difficult. I urge Harry to kneel up and then push slowly into the inviting hole until I'm completely sheathed in his body.

Time slows and groans fill the air when I start to move slowly within him. Whether they are Harry's or mine I cannot say, and in the end it doesn't matter. Harry strains against his chains, using his limited movement to meet every trust of mine with equal passion. The strain of the muscles in his backside, his moans, the dancing flames that let his body gleam, the way Harry spreads his legs even further in silent invitation, it is all exquisitely erotic. My breath stocks, and my cock twitches within the velvet grip of his arse.

The sight is too much and I find myself moving faster, my thrusts becoming more insisting. Our mingled moans increase in volume as our passion soars higher until the tension becomes almost unbearable. I feel like bursting and will my hand to let go of Harry's hip where it certainly left bruises and move around his body until I get hold of his hard, throbbing prick which I pump in time to our thrusts.

Far too soon for my liking I reach completion. I try to stop myself, but then Harry's arse muscles clench around my cock as he orgasms, making it impossible to delay my own climax any longer.

I'm flying, higher and higher on a swirl of sensations until there is no higher and I fall, Harry's name on my lips.

When I come to myself again, it is to Harry squirming below me. With a murmured, 'Sorry' I roll off him. I feel as tired as he looks when we face each other. But despite the underlying fatigue, his eyes radiate a peacefulness and satisfaction that is completely unknown to me. Unlike the love which accompanies these emotions, for they mirror my own feelings.

It is in moments like this, that I could die happily, I think. The knowledge that such a strong emotion is devoted to me is as overwhelming as it was in the beginning and I hope that it will never change, that I'll never take it for granted or anything less than the precious gift it is.

"Don't." The disapproving voice interrupts my thoughts. Blankly, I look at him. "You're brooding again. Don't do it."

"As a matter of fact, I don't brood, I am thinking. A condition that, while probably unknown to you, Mr. Potter, is quite common among other people, myself included. Secondly, I don't think you are in any position to give me orders, pet, are you?" I ask, bestowing a light slap on his still warm backside before I allow a smile to hush over my lips. Harry's grin is almost lost in the yawn that accompanies and then replaces it.

"You need to rest," I say softly while caressing his cheek.

He seems to melt into my touch. "If you stay with me?"

Another one of those requests impossible to resist, but if he knows it, he doesn't show it. He looks at me with that special open innocence that drew me to him in the first place, an innocence nothing - not his past, not Voldemort, not the werewolf - could destroy. I nod before I silently, for words are lost, release his chains and clean us both with a simple spell.

Not much later, we lie entwined with each other, waiting for sleep to claim us. I pull Harry closer, breathing in his scent, memorizing it as if it would be the last time we will be together. And like every month after the change, I find myself praying in gratitude that Harry has survived the change once more. But at the same time, it is a plea that it will stay this way. It is probably a pathetic ritual that will make no difference in the end, but it is not something I can give up, nor do I want to. Not as long as it allows us to continue the life we have. As I said, in a situation as ours, you get a different view on life and a new set of expectations.

I listen to Harry's breathing that slowly evens before I close my own eyes, succumbing to Morpheus after the sleepless night of the day before.

Just before darkness claims me lips brush over my cheek and arms tighten around my body. A whispered 'Love you, Sev' reaches my ears and follows me into a peaceful sleep.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-**


End file.
